Tall, Dark, and Lonesome Page 6

  “Fine,” he agreed. “I won’t deny it. Get your shoes on, and I’ll move your stuff to my tent.”

  “No.” Niki’s refusal was quick. Suddenly, the thought of sharing a tent with Zach sent every nerve she had into sensory overload. To lie beside him … hear his steady breathing in the quiet of the night … wake up with him. No. Absolutely not. She couldn’t. She was too aware of him, too attuned to the inexplicable connection that existed between them. Intimacy would only make that connection stronger. No. There must be another option. There was always another option.

  She pulled her duffel closer and found a pair of sneakers to put on. “I’ll just find some plastic. I think I saw one of those vinyl tablecloths in the wagon. I’ll be fine. Really.”

  “No, you won’t. Plastic won’t do a thing about the cold.”

  “I’m wearing silk thermals underneath my clothes,” she blurted out, wanting to end the discussion and convince Zach to go away.

  “Face it, Niki. Silk underwear isn’t going to do the trick.” Want to bet? He rubbed his hands over his eyes to blot out the image of her legs encased in smooth silk thermals. “You don’t have the right kind of sleeping bag for these temperatures, and I saw a coyote nosing around earlier. That’s why I had John string up some more lights. You shouldn’t be out here. You’re sharing my tent.” Zach grabbed her duffel and the strap to her laptop computer. “I’m too exhausted to argue. Get your sleeping bag and follow me.”

  “No.” She must have sounded as terrified as she felt, because Zach stopped and turned around.

  “If it’s the kiss that’s bothering you, forget it. I have.” Like hell you have, Weston. “Tonight all I want to do is get some sleep, and I won’t be able to do that if I’m worrying about you freezing to death.” He smiled at her and nodded toward the tent. “Come on, Cookie. Trust me. All I’m offering you is the floor of my tent.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply … I meant—Never mind. Thank you for the offer. I appreciate it.” Niki picked up the sleeping bag and tried to recover from the bomb he’d nonchalantly dropped about the kiss. Forget it. I have.

  Hadn’t she wanted the kiss to be forgotten? Then why did she feel disappointed that Zach had put it out of his mind? Why was she angry that he could shrug his shoulders and pretend it hadn’t happened? Because she was damn well certain that if she closed her eyes, she would still be able to feel the pressure of his lips against hers and the exciting velvet of his tongue as it slid into her mouth.

  If one kiss can do this to you, Niki, then you have no business sharing a tent with the man. Logically, she understood why she had to forget that Zach turned her on. All the same, she wished that she had met him in New York or that this cattle drive had been anywhere but Cutter’s Creek, Wyoming.

  Zach signaled the dogs to go into the tent and waited patiently beside the flap for Niki. When she arrived, he held his arm across the opening, forcing her to look up at him. The uncertainty of her expression made him reach out to tuck a few strands of hair behind her ear and rub his thumb across her bottom lip. “Niki, it’s okay. We’re two intelligent adults. I can behave if you can.”

  “I’m glad to hear you can behave,” she whispered, “because I wasn’t at all sure about me.” The scrape of his thumb across her lip triggered a weakness in her knees and robbed her of breath. Why on earth did he have to stare at her mouth like that? Men who stared in that way were not interested in polite conversation. He looked like a man waiting for a sign from the woman he wanted to kiss. She had a wild urge to open her lips and tease his thumb into her mouth with her tongue. What would he do if she did just that—pulled his thumb into her mouth and sucked gently? Damn!

  Jerking her head away from his touch, she ducked under his arm and into the tent “I’m glad we’ve got the rules straight. This sharing arrangement is strictly platonic.” She unfurled the sleeping bag and kicked off her shoes. “I won’t get in your way at all. I’ve got three brothers, which means I could write a book about fading into the woodwork. If they couldn’t find me, they couldn’t torture me.”

  Zach cleared his throat, giving himself time to absorb the abrupt about-face in Niki’s reactions. Before she’d pulled away, he’d seen something in her eyes that he would bet his last dollar had been desire. If she hadn’t broken away, he’d have kissed her, and it wouldn’t have been like the kiss in the rain. He’d have kissed her hard, making sure she understood what she did to his body and what she did to his peace of mind. With effort, he returned his thoughts to her comment about her family. “You’ve got three brothers?”

  “Two bigs and a little,” she answered with a yawn as she slid into her bed. “The best and the worst brothers a girl could ever have. How about you? Any brothers or sisters?”

  “Just me.”

  “Ah, an only child. When I was seven, my mom asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I said an only child.” Niki smiled at him. “I was a terribly clever kid, wasn’t I?” She patted her leg, and Brass answered the invitation to sleep next to her. “Night, Zach.”

  “Night, Niki,” he whispered, unable to keep the smile from his face. In less than fifteen seconds, she had gone from sexy to sleepy, made herself at home, and won the seal of approval from Brass.

  Zach rolled out his own sleeping bag, pulled off his boots, and settled down for the night. Unfortunately, sleeping with Niki in the tent was every bit as impossible as he’d imagined. Her soft, even breathing might have been tolerable if she hadn’t made a tiny sigh of contentment that had him wondering about other, more intimate sighs he wanted to hear as he cupped a breast and pulled the tip into his mouth.

  Snicker wasn’t happy about the sleeping arrangements either. She laid her head on his chest, making a soft grumble of protest in her throat as she looked over at Niki and Brass. Zach lifted a hand to scratch behind her ears and answered, “Don’t worry, girl. Brass’ll be back. Niki didn’t come here to steal a cattle dog.” My heart maybe, but not Brass.

  “Roll out!”

  When the distant, irritating voice penetrated Niki’s consciousness, she cracked one eye at the open tent flap and discovered that darkness still cloaked the world beyond. She suspected another one of John Carey’s little practical jokes, so she buried her head under the covers and ignored the voice.

  “Roll out!” John said, louder this time and closer.

  Niki’s hand fumbled around for a weapon and found her sneaker. She couldn’t hit the broadside of a barn with a bazooka in broad daylight, but she could nail one of her brothers with a sneaker from fifty yards away without even opening her eyes. And John Carey was beginning to have all the annoying qualities of a brother.

  “Roll—Ouch! Guess you’re up.”

  Niki smiled and rolled over in her sleeping bag. The dreamy satisfaction of having hit her target was immediately replaced by the surprise of arms circling her. Her eyes flew open, and she found herself looking at the amused expression of Zach Weston.

  “Morning, Cookie.” Zach had been on the point of laughing at her handling of John when she rolled right into his arms. Never one to ignore opportunity, he smiled and made himself comfortable.

  “It’s … still night,” Niki murmured, wondering how she’d ended up in his arms, and why it felt so natural.

  “It’ll be sunrise soon,” he said, spellbound by the morning timbre of her voice, full of sleep and dreams and husky promise. He knew he should let her go, but his arms refused to obey. Even with two sleeping bags shielding her curves from his body, she excited him.

  “Sorry about zapping-John …” Words slipped away as she stared at the quiet passion etched in Zach’s face. The world around her disappeared, and time ceased to operate within its normal rules. As she waited for his mouth to claim hers, each second seemed a lifetime.

  Zach lowered his head. The flame of desire inside him was beginning to scorch his iron control. Kissing her would only be the prelude to satisfying the need building within. He wanted to strip away the layers between th
em and discover every delicate inch of flesh hidden beneath, but he couldn’t. Not now. Not with an audience waiting outside the flimsy walls of the tent. A frustrated, strangled sound escaped his lips, and he cursed the twelve people outside the tent who made freely loving Niki next to impossible. He also cursed the Fates that literally had dropped Niki into his lap in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  “We’d better get out there before John eats all the biscuits,” Zach advised as he eased her out of his arms and unzipped his sleeping bag.

  When Zach pulled away, he took the magic with him. Reality jarred Niki unpleasantly, and she felt cheated. The world jumped into gear, beginning to buzz in her ears. She heard the laughter of the men around the campfire. Heard John harassing other sleepy guests. Heard the scrape of Zach’s boots as he slid them on.

  “Where are the dogs?” she asked lamely, sitting up and hugging her knees to her chest.

  “Went with John to check the herd this morning.” Zach threw the words over his shoulder. “They’re probably lying low by the chuck wagon, hoping to catch any scraps that fall off the table.”

  “Oh.” How could he change moods so quickly? One minute he was fitting her to his body, ready to kiss her, and the next he was preparing to bolt from the tent. All business. All busy.

  Turning around, Zach noted that although Niki was sitting, she hadn’t made any other progress toward getting up. “I wasn’t kidding about the biscuits. John’ll eat your share if you don’t get out there and claim them.”

  The cold frosted his breath. Niki was fascinated with the gentle plumes that accompanied his words. Instead of answering, she exhaled softly, trying to blow a winter smoke ring. “I used to love doing this as a kid. My brothers and I played Smoke of Death. We’d tackle each other and breathe puffs of white smoke on the victim.”

  Zach could see Niki as a child, racing through the cold, red-cheeked and laughing, giggling as she tackled the first handy brother and killed him with the Smoke of Death. He envied her childhood. Growing up with brothers who tortured her, three brothers who were the best and the worst.

  Three brothers. Cold suspicion settled in the pit of Zach’s stomach as he began to put the pieces together, Devlin. Three brothers. Born in Wyoming. The Wyoming newspapers didn’t carry her column. Onions hadn’t caused the tears she’d cried while he held her in his arms. The Devlins of Cutter’s Creek had three sons and a daughter who went away to college and never came back.

  Are you related to the Devlins in Cutter’s Creek?

  No, afraid not.

  She’d lied. Without blinking an eye, she’d lied! What was she running from? And why did he care? Wasn’t she entitled to her secrets? She didn’t owe him any explanations. In a few days she would be heading back to New York and out of his life. Not that two thousand miles could change the fact that she wasn’t the kind of woman a man gave up easily.

  Clearing his throat, Zach said, “I’ve got work to do.”

  Startled by his abrupt exit, Niki stared after him for a few moments before she scrambled to get ready. She brushed and braided her hair without benefit of a mirror and wouldn’t have been surprised if the job had ended up lopsided. She rolled and tied Zach’s sleeping bag as well as her own and set everything outside the tent, knowing it would be carefully packed and transported to the next campsite.

  Niki slipped on one sneaker and hopped around outside the tent until she found its mate. Yesterday’s rain had brought cooler temperatures, so Niki retrieved an oversized blue jean jacket from her duffel. Her boots were by the chuck wagon, and she needed them, which meant it was time to face the curious stares of the men.

  By now they knew she’d shared Zach’s tent, and Niki guessed more than a few of them were probably indulging in a little speculation about the sleeping arrangements. Plastering a smile on her face, Niki walked toward the fire, intending to warm up before eating her breakfast.

  “Whoa, it’s Dead-eye Dick,” warned John as he backed away, feigning fear. Then he grinned and joined her by the fire. “You’re not much of a morning person, are you?”

  Niki chuckled and said, “I love morning. I bounce out of bed and sing in the shower. But this”—Niki looked around at the murky black night—“This is not morning. Anything before the crack of dawn is not morning. It’s night.”

  “It’ll be sunrise soon.”

  “So I’ve heard. I’ll believe it when I see it. Where’s Zach?” She hoped she hadn’t betrayed her disappointment at not seeing his face among those of the men milling about.

  “With the cattle. If breakfast is portable, he eats in the saddle. Say, you wouldn’t be one of those women who skips breakfast, would you?” John asked abruptly. “I mean, do you eat a lot in the morning?”

  Niki began to understand why he’d joined her at the fire so quickly, and couldn’t resist having a little fun with him. He reminded her of her youngest brother, who was also constantly on the prowl for food. “I’m ravenous in the morning. Can’t get filled up. I’ve been asked to leave all-you-can-eat breakfast buffets. I—”

  “Never mind,” interrupted John, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “Murray’s the cook today. He’s got biscuits and ham over there. He’s been saving some for you.”

  Murray was obviously an old hand at cooking on a camp stove. He confided he’d used a family recipe for the pan biscuits and hovered anxiously while Niki sampled his efforts. Niki ate every bite and was as disappointed as John when the food was gone.

  While she ate, the inky heavens began to change to a gloomy blue. By the time she’d changed her sneakers for boots, the sky was alive with the delicate colors of sunrise: primrose, apricot, amethyst, and periwinkle. She’d forgotten how glorious the Wyoming sky could be, and she was surprised to realize how much she missed the wild beauty of the land. Years of staring at New York concrete and steel had given her a fresh appreciation of Wyoming: golden in the autumn, pristine white in winter, gloriously green in spring, and alive with the purple of Indian paintbrush in summer.

  Still musing over how she could have forgotten the breathtaking beauty of the landscape, Niki followed the others to the horses. All of the men grabbed a saddle and threw it on a horse, so Niki did the same. She hefted the saddle, groaning at its weight, and looked around for an unclaimed horse. A beautiful chestnut gelding stood unsaddled, restively tossing its head and snorting. She looked at the other horses, waiting quietly as their riders slapped saddles on their backs, and then she looked at the gelding.

  “Cookie, are you going to get on that horse or not?”

  At the slow drawl from behind her, Niki closed her eyes and thought, Why me? Zach had a way of turning up at the worst possible moments. Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and turned around. Zach led Dap, the reins loose in his left hand. Somewhere between leaving the tent and now, Zach had changed shirts and acquired a well-worn denim jacket. The cuffs of the jacket were turned up, and the shirt was a forest green flannel.

  Niki almost sighed aloud as she stared at the long line of black shirt buttons that disappeared beneath the brass snap of his jeans. Why couldn’t he have worn something besides a flannel shirt? She had a weakness for men in flannel shirts. Unable to stop herself, Niki imagined being held in Zach’s arms, snuggled against the softness of a flannel shirt that was warm from the heat of his body. She imagined her throaty chuckle as she tugged his shirt loose and—

  “Well, are you going to get on that horse or not?” Zach repeated.

  Smiling faintly and dragging her sensuous thoughts back to reality, Niki said, “Have you got something in a beginner horse? A cow pony maybe?”

  Zach looked at her sharply, noticing the light pink color in her cheeks. “I thought the travel agent said you worked with horses before.”

  “I have.” Niki shrugged and adjusted her grip on the saddle. “I ran the pony ride booth at the Christmas Festival in Central Park. Two years straight.”

  Zach blanched, and Niki knew he was thinking about the day befor
e, about John leaving her alone with the mule team. “I can ride, Zach. Really, I can. I’m just used to smaller horses—ones that let me get into the saddle without finding a handy boulder to stand on.”

  Shaking his head and holding Dap’s reins toward her, Zach said, “Give me the saddle.”

  Niki moved the saddle out of his reach. “You don’t have to be concerned about my safety. I know how to saddle a horse. I’ll manage.”

  “I’m not particularly worried about your safety,” Zach said blandly. “I just don’t want my saddle sailing through the air when you go tail over teakettle into Rock Creek.”

  A gasp of irritation escaped Niki, and her eyes narrowed at Zach’s cavalier admission that he cared more about his stupid saddle than her safety. She bit her tongue to keep from saying any of the names that crossed her mind. When she could trust herself to speak, she gave him some advice.

  “Pay attention, Weston. You may learn something.”

  “His name’s Cay,” Zach offered helpfully, smothering a grin as she approached the chestnut horse. He was more than willing to pay attention. Watching Niki was quickly becoming his favorite pastime- “C-a-y. Short for Chaos.”

  “Good. I love a challenge.”

  “So do I,” Zach answered with feeling, and noticed the slight hesitation in her stride. He knew he should probably tell her that Cay was more of a clown than a devil, more playful than nasty, and loved chasing cows, but he wanted to see how she handled herself around horses.

  His question about her ability was answered almost immediately. Niki greeted Cay with reassurance and a firm hand, slapped the saddle on his back with authority, and delivered a well-timed elbow to his side as the horse sucked in air to keep her from tightening the cinch properly.

  “There.” Niki exhaled the word along with the breath she’d been holding. Truthfully, she hadn’t been sure she could remember the routine for saddling a horse, but as soon as she’d swung the saddle up, the old rhythm had come back.